Police Funerals
by CovenStine
Summary: A look at Beckett's funeral.  Pseudo-dark, 1st person response to a prompt in Merry-Merry-Me's "Freeze, Thaw, Reheat."  No, I'm not answering "from the perspective of whom?" in the character field... I've had several requests for more; it's possible...


Police Funerals  
>by CovenStine<p>

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><p>I'd never been to a police funeral, but this one would be seared into my memory- of that I was certain. I deal with death fairly regularly, and I understood the job was dangerous, but my understanding was in the abstract. Not even high-definition, three-dimensional television could show the depth of the sorrow felt here.<p>

Everywhere, there were uniforms. I'd figured out that the '12' emblazoned on more than half of the class-A jackets I saw represented Kate's precinct. The number of people here was astounding- I didn't even realize her precinct had this much manpower- and the higher-ups all seemed to be here too, from the mayor on down. And under every uniform was a person in mourning. Not just 'I'm sorry for your loss' mourners either, honest-to-god I-represent-a-world-that-is-worse-without-her mourning. The black mourning insignia had never meant quite so much, but I truly understood it at that moment. I'm not sure where we civilians could get an equivalent, but I'm not close enough with anyone here to ask.

When I got there I'd simply found a seat, to wait out the ceremony until I could pay my respects to the woman that captured my heart so effortlessly. I hadn't expected the number of speeches, everybody in her chain of command had something nice to say, and everything was heartfelt. The mayor knew her well, thanks to the writer monkey, and had nothing but positive things to say in his brief speech. The police commissioner too had only commendations, and her captain would have as well, if she hadn't been shot at his funeral. The senior man under her, Esposito I think, had the simplest speech yet, and yet the most moving, "nobody worked with her more closely, had her back more often, or egged her on more frequently, then Castle, Ryan, Lanie and me; and nobody on the force will miss her more. I, and the rest of the Force behind me, am sorry for the loss we share, Mr. Beckett."

His comments had grated on me a touch. Sure, the man was sincere, but I'd lost the woman I loved, the woman I shared a bed with- the woman I came home for- and everybody was focused on the loss 'The Force' and 'The City' suffered, with a small side helping of Kate's Dad's loss. Nobody mentioned squat about my loss- sure that was egocentric, but I'm a DOCTOR, I was GOOD for her.

This thought moved from the back of my mind to the forefront as I reevaluated my surroundings, and I was a little dismayed at my findings. I realized that the receiving line which was forming was made up entirely of her team and her father. Somehow the writer monkey managed to be included in the team even though he was a civilian. He and Kate's father were the two figures that most of the mourners focused on were, which made no sense to me. She was always –crap, 'had always been'… past tense was going to suck!- railing about how distracting he was how difficult he was to work with. It didn't make sense to me that so many of her colleagues would believe that she valued him so- unless they knew something I didn't.

I couldn't quite bring myself to go through the receiving line, telling them all I was sorry for their loss seemed like some sort of paradox, as was my loss too and I still felt it- acutely. It didn't really dawn on me that was staring at the writer monkey until the procession ended and he was no longer shaking hands. I looked around and realized that while I was focused elsewhere the funeral had finished and only the four that made up her team remained. They were talking amongst each other, but I figured from the way that Lanie and Castle kept looking over at me that I might be the topic. I watched as Lanie disengaged from the group and strode over in my direction. She captured the attention of Kate's father on the way and brought him over to me. It suddenly dawned on me that I had never met the man before, yet in the split second between that realization and Lanie's approach, I realized that he and Castle had seemed very close earlier.

Lanie said, "Hello Josh." All I was capable of while processing this new information was a stiff nod to acknowledge her presence, and so she continued, "I know you must really miss our Kate, it's obvious she meant a lot to you. I wasn't sure if you had been introduced to Kate's father; Jim, this is Dr. Josh Davidson. Josh, I'm sure Mr. Jim Beckett needs no introduction." After had shaken hands, she continued, "I hadn't seen you guys talking here today, so I wasn't sure if you had met. I'm terribly sorry that these are the circumstances your meeting under, and I'm sure if this is your first police funeral you were more than a little lost. Just know that Castle, the Beckett's team, and I are going to stop at nothing to get these men. I know you've heard that before, Jim and I'm sorry for that. I wish there was more we could do. After we are finished paying our respects we'll probably head down to the Old Haunt, if you wish to join us."

After she shook my hand, Lanie walked away, but I was still peripherally aware of her interaction with the man hunched over the casket. Jim and I entered into an awkward meaningless conversation while Lanie, flanked by Beckett's old team, approached Castle. Kneeling before the closed casket, with his forehead pressed to the wood, the man was shaking and talking to its occupant. Of the few words I could make out, his monologue sounded like an apology.

Jim seemed to notice my distraction, and reclaimed my attention by addressing my focus, "that man is absolutely tortured right now." I had snapped to look at him, "he saw this coming, and so did I." If it was possible, his expression became even more melancholy, "I tried getting him to talk her out of it, I tried myself but she just could not be swayed. She was a force to be reckoned with; I don't know if I will survive without her."

We both watched as an absolute distraught Castle- so unlike the suave and jovial man that I had met on prior occasions, or read about on page six- was hauled to his feet by Lanie and her posse.

I couldn't watch, so I turned to leave; Jim's vehicle must have been in the same direction, and he must have seen his fill also, as he turned to walk with me. "She would never forgive me if I turned to alcohol again after another family murder so I know I'm not going this evening." Jim's words were little befuddling, but if he noticed my perplexed expression he didn't comment. "I wish Kate had introduced us before, but I wish you well Dr. Davidson. Now if you'll excuse me I need to have a word with my sponsor."

I mumbled some words of appreciation for his part in making the woman we both loved such an amazing testament to the potential strength of an individual. After I said my farewell Jim turned left towards his car and I peeled away to mine.

About 10 cars down the road, a petite redhead of medium height climbed out of a black town car. She seemed to be making for the funeral that was now finished, which struck me as slightly odd, but I paid it no mind. As we passed each other, the subtle scent of cherries and lavender brought a small sad smile to my lips.

On the left, I passed what I once had mistaken for her town car, but I now saw to be an unmarked police cruiser, complete with crash bar, grill lights, and various antennae. There was even a slender figure, collar up against the breeze, facing directly away from the funeral-and thus almost directly away from me. Again, I thought it odd that someone in such a formal looking pea coat would wear a ball cap, and again I chose to ignore the oddity.

I climbed into my car, I had to keep my head from snapping back to the quiet commotion at the grave site. Looking back on that man, that family I was never part of, and their grief would only serve to multiply my own.

Normally, I got a kick out of driving the modern day version of the pony car I had envied as a kid, but not today. Someone could have smashed out all of my Camaro's headlights, or even swapped it for a Chevette, and I wouldn't have noticed. Normally, I would have changed the channel as soon as I heard Evanescence playing over the speakers, but today the minor chords and haunting voice seemed fitting.

I pulled away from a funeral I never wanted to remember, listening to music I would never like, in a car I didn't notice. I was numb, and I was blind-even to the activity brewing in my rear-view mirror.

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><p>AN: Yeah, 1st fic really, haven't planned a follow up or anything, just liked the prompt. I'm not a wordsmith, or an expert at anything close, but feedback is welcome, even if it's "you used the wrong "their" right there, you're a moron." I can hack it, and I'll fix it. Live and learn, eh?  
>Thanks, &amp; take care!<br>~C

**Oops! Duh! Disclaimer: I can't profit from writing anything besides code, so obviously these fictional characters don't belong to me nor does anything to do with the show "Castle"; I'm just enjoying putting them in my own situation for personal amusement. And if there were similarities, I don't own anything to do with "Bones" either, beyond the bag of milk-bones in the cupboard.**


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